I'll Catch You If You Fall
by Mi ChIbO
Summary: In an effort to prove that she can do everything, Lily Evans finds herself standing in the Quidditch pitch, James Potter beside her, wondering if she really CAN reach the goalpost without falling. James promised he would catch her, but she’s not so sure..


**I'll Catch You If You Fall**

**Disclaimer: It's not mine. It's J.K. Rowling's. Even the Hogwarts toilet seat…**

**Summary: In an effort to prove that she can do everything, Lily Evans finds herself standing in the Quidditch pitch, James Potter beside her, wondering if she really CAN reach the goalpost without falling. James promised he would catch her, but she's not so sure..**

**Rated K+ just to be safe.**

**Happy reading!**

Lily Evans was scared.

Actually, Lily Evans was petrified (not to be confused with the state of having the Petrificus Totalus cast upon oneself).

The reason this redhead was scared is because there was a certain person standing in front of her. Holding a _broom_. Not that brooms were frightening. It was just the thought of placing herself _on _one of them, lifting into the air, and trying to fly made her stomach drop. And she wasn't even in the air yet.

"You said you could do it."

The voice of James Potter echoed in her head mockingly, refusing to leave.

"I can," she stated stubbornly, clenching her fists to stop herself from shaking. If she did shiver, could she pass it off as the weather making her feel cold? She doubted it. It was a perfectly fine day: cloudless, sunny, and a sweltering 98 degrees.

"Go on then," he smirked, bouncing the broom in his palm with an air of confidence.

She sniffed, "I don't feel like it at the moment." Settled, she turned around and began the long walk across the Quidditch pitch and toward the castle. How had they even gotten out there any way? Oh. Right. He brought her here when she'd scoffed at him bounding into the Head's common room, announcing victoriously that they'd won the match against Ravenclaw. What had she said to him? Oh yes: "Anyone can shoot up into the air, playing with a stupid ball. I don't see why people make such a big deal about it."

"Coward."

She whipped around, robes flying, "_What_?"

He was sitting now. On the grass. In that red quidditch robe of his, his glasses sliding of the end of his nose. He pushed them back up and knocked his hair out of his face with a jerk of his head (which was balanced in a bored way on his hand, his elbow resting on his knee).

"You're scared," he pointed out, "Of trying and possibly failing."

"Am not!" she huffed indignantly.

"Yes you are."

There was a deadly quiet pause in which his hazel eyes locked with her bright green ones, challenging her.

She stomped forward, "Am." She snatched the broom from the ground, where he'd set it in front of him. "Not."

He dropped his hand and folded it into his other, raising an eyebrow, "Then show me."

With a growl of exasperation, she turned, staring out into the stands, which seemed to reach a mile high. Her angry face fell and she gulped slightly. Suddenly, he was behind her.

"I'll catch you if you fall."

She glared, though he couldn't see it, as he softly slid his hands around her upper arms and squeezed them reassuringly.

Though she didn't want to, she let her brain think he'd calmed her, even if it was just the slightest bit.

"And if you get hurt," he said, lowering his voice even though no one was there, "I'll kiss you to make it better."

Okay, _that _was going _too_ far.

She lifted the broom to her shoulder, purposely whacking him in the face and knocking his glasses askew before stalking down the pitch, enraged again.

She bit her lip and slowly mounted the broom. James came up beside her, crossing his arms and grinning that cocky grin of his, "Get on with it, then."

"I don't need to be rushed," she said through clenched teeth, "Especially by my mortal enemy."

"Sure, love. Now all you have to do is reach the top of the stands – or the goalpost, it doesn't matter – and then you can come down, okay?"

"If you'd like to live, don't call me 'love.'"

"All right then, all settled. You can start now."

Lily restrained herself from biting her nails and screaming with terror as she kicked off lightly. Slow and steady was good, right? Maybe if she went faster it would be over quicker? Oh whatever, she was just going to try and stay on the broom… and not look down… blimey, James looks shorter than I thought he would from up here…

She mentally shrieked in horror.

She had looked _down_. And the ground was _really _far away.

"Lily, don't look down if you feel sick!"

_Oooooh, smart to say that _now _arse-face_, she hissed in her mind.

With a bad feeling nagging at her gut, she coaxed the broom up, deciding to go to the goalpost. She'd show him.

The posts began to grow larger and James shrank to the size of an ant. She swallowed, "J-James…"

No! She wouldn't! Her dignity (and her pride) _would not, _and _could not _fail her now.

…could they?

She pulled up to aim toward the top of the goal post and the broom's handle suddenly slipped from her grasp. One second she was on the broom, and the next she was halfway to the ground. As soon as her mind registered the fall, she began to yell. She squeezed her eyes shut, the rushing air coaxing tears from them as she hurtled to her death.

Then she suddenly felt to strong arms come around her waist and she crashed into the person behind her, crushing them both against the ground. She pressed her hands to her face as momentum sent her rolling over onto her stomach beside her savior.

She… she hadn't died! Had she not been so terribly scared and appalled, she probably would have been jumping for joy. But alas, she _was_ terribly scared and appalled and jumping for joy didn't even cross her mind. But certainly one thing did…

"You… you saved me…" she squeaked, her voice coming out more pitiful than she would've liked.

"I promised, didn't I?" James breathed beside her. She pulled herself up and shakily balanced on her arms. Realizing that they wouldn't hold her, she collapsed on his chest, her hand curling around a fistful of his Quidditch robe.

"Thank you, James," she whispered.

"Hey! You called me James!" he said, unable to hide the excitement in his voice.

She smiled softly, "That is your name, isn't it?"

"Yes, but you've always called me 'Potter' or something rather rude like arse-face…"

"Which I was uncannily thinking while I was up there…" she mumbled, trying hard not to grin.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"You said something!"

"So what if I did?"

"Oooooh, you!"

Out of the blue, he turned swiftly, pinning her wrists down as he hovered over her, a bright smile creeping humorously onto his face.

"You," he said, releasing one of her hands to poke her softly in the nose, "Have been a very bad girl, haven't you?"

"And what gave you that impression?" she asked innocently.

"I think I'm going to have to punish you."

"I think you shouldn't do that to the Head Girl."

"I think the Head Girl should not order the Head Boy around so much."

"I think you should stop thinking."

"I think we should _both _stop thinking."

"I think I agree."

"You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because there are better things to do than think."

And without missing a beat, he brought himself down and kissed her fully on the lips.

It was nice, she admitted to herself, _very _nice.

He pulled back after a few seconds and she felt herself pout.

"Why did you stop?"

He smirked, "I told you if something happened I'd kiss you to make it better."

She grinned, "I don't think I'm quite cured yet… why don't you try again?"

He was happy to oblige.

…**and you can decide what happens after that. Thank you for taking the time to read! Please leave a review on your way out, even if it's a flame. I use them to keep the fire in the common room lit. Ah… bright and shiny, warm and toasty… X)**

**-Mi ChIbO-**

**beep…**


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